


Flower Lungs

by scipiocipher



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Burn warning for chapter 6, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kinda, M/M, Magical Realism, Meant To Be, Other, Slow Burn- Maybe, Slow To Update, Sorry it took so long, Temporary Character Death, Trans Characters, Vampire Virus, Violence warning for chapter 4, Witch AU, exploration of gender identity, exploration of sexual orientation, hilbert is dmitri in this au, neurodivergent characters, occult enthusiast!Eiffel, probably, slight transphobia warning for chapter 7, witch!Hilbert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:33:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scipiocipher/pseuds/scipiocipher
Summary: The Hirudo virus and Mortis Lux are my own creation, for my own use. Do not use them without my consent in any work that you gain monetary profit from. If you wish to use them in a nonprofit fan fiction, that's fine, but I would like to be credited





	1. Meeting

 This following is a story about unlikelihood, fate and coincidence and opposites going together as easily as a dream. And there’s some cool ass magic in it too. While it is sometimes difficult to pick a beginning, I think I have a perfect place for this one.

 

  _October 8th, An autumn morning as crisp as a harvest apple, not quite sunrise._

Douglas Fernand Eiffel had a bit of a problem. He was deeply fascinated with the occult. He also happened to be scared of most of it. He was scared of a lot of things actually, but that was kinda beside the point. The point was, when he was in High school, it was already pretty bad, but like a disease, it had just gotten worse over the years. Which is exactly why he was walking into the local “all night bookstore” (everyone knew there was a hydroponics setup in the back) before 7 am, to get a spellbook. The only other thing that could convince him to get up this early was the offer of pineapple and ham pizza.

 As expected, the bookstore was, for the most part, empty. A teenager with graying skin sat at the counter, asleep. Eiffel shook his shoulder so he wouldn’t turn into stone (for the 5th time) and walked off to the “Recipes” section. On his way there, he ran into three other patrons. One was red eyed and long, unkempt hair. The banshee gave him a strange look, and shuffled on her merry way, a book on sore throat remedies tucked under her arm. The other two were humans, who were clearly enjoying the other service the bookstore offered. Eiffel walked away from them quickly.

 The bookshelves themselves were a winding maze, wide spaces in between them in some places, and only enough room for one person in others. The only constant was that they were all made of cherry wood, and each section had a plaque that told of the contents in large, swirling art nouveau letters.

 He hurried along most of the cramped parts, not wanting to put up with bookworms. They had recently learned how to jump five inches, and as such, were becoming a problem. _At least they aren’t eating books anymore._ Eiffel thought. The last time Blessie had found a half eaten book, they closed shop and fumigated. Then they let loose spiders, to try and get rid of the stragglers.

 Eiffel opened a book once, saw one, and had screamed so loud someone had called 911.

 He finally found the plaque that read “Recipes” and began scanning the As, while humming to himself. While was looking, he didn’t notice another person, coming from the opposite direction, looking at the shelves too. Finally, he spotted the old book, with a small, pink sticky note poking out of the top. He reached for it… just as someone else did as well. He grabbed it quickly, held it over his head, and loudly said “I’ll fight you for it-” when he noticed _who_ had been reaching for the book.

 A shorter person looked up at him with a set jaw, hands curled into fists at his side, and a _very_ displeased expression.  

 “..hey.” Eiffel said, lowering the arm holding the book over head slightly.

 “I need that book.” They said crossly.

 “Why?” Eiffel almost gave into the urge to hold back over his head to the full extent of his arm again.

 “Research.”

 “What kind of research?” Something dark flashed in the stranger’s eyes. Or was it bright? Either way, Eiffel got the message loud and clear. “Ok, so you need this book.” He admitted. “But I put in a request for it with the owner, several months ago. I got out of bed at 6:30 to get it, which I never do.”

 “So did I.” The stranger was starting to look like he was considering punching him and taking the book off of his unconscious body. He would be the kind of person Eiffel would ask to get coffee with if not for that tiny detail.

 Right about then was when the air vent grate near them swung open, and the bookstore owner, Blessie themself, popped their head out of it.

 “I figured this would happen.” they said. “Couldn’t one of you have slept in for once? Just this one time?”

 The stranger glared at him. “What were you going to do with the late one?”

 “Now now, Dmitri, I wanted to avoid a fight this morning.” they said patronizingly.

  The stranger- Dmitri- scowled. “Answer the question, Ανθούσαι.” The word felt strange to Eiffel- it was Greek to him. Literally, the word was greek.

  “Alright, alright, no need to bust out the ancient greek on me.” Blessie said. “Look, I was gonna tell the truth; I couldn’t find them a copy of the book. Sorry boys.”

 “Are you certain you could not find another copy?” Dmitri hissed through gritted teeth, his shoulders and hackles rising.

 “I’m one hundred percent positive. Listen, I know you don’t like sharing toys, but this is what you have, so make. It. work. And don’t you fucking look at me in that tone of voice. Douglas here is plenty trustworthy, I’m sure you can come to an agreement.” And with that, they grabbed the grate and snapped it back over the opening.

 Dmitri turned to Eiffel and he felt goosebumps raise on his arms. Everything in their body language read, quite clearly, ‘ _Give me that book or I’ll wipe the goddamn floor with you for it_.’ “Neither of us likes this situation, am I correct?”

 “Yeah.”

 “But we both need that book.”

 “Also yeah.”

 “Ahem.” A voice came from the air vent. “You could just share it.”

 “Spying on people is rude, Blessie.” Dmitri said. “Thank you for the suggestion, however.”

 “Whatever.” Blessie said.

  “So like… I get it for a week, give it to you, and you get the book for a week?” Eiffel suggested tentatively. He still was holding the book up above his head, and his arm was getting real tired of this bullshit.

 Dmitri tilted their head, considering the offer and looking significantly less like they were about to murder Eiffel violently and efficiently. “That sounds doable.”

 A piece of paper fluttered down to them and landed on the floor between the two of them.  _GO GET COFFEE. YOU TWO BOTH LIKE COFFEE, RIGHT?_ , it read, in spidery, curling letters.

 Dmitri looked down at the large piece of paper. “They will not leave us alone unless we leave, will they?" they said disappointedly.  

 “Don’t think so, no.” Eiffel said. “So, wanna get coffee?”

* * *

  Eiffel was pretty confused as to how he wound up getting coffee with a stranger. Especially a stranger that had been looking like they were going to murder him earlier. The morning itself was pretty confusing, to be perfectly honest. Dmitri walked like they didn’t want anyone to so much as think about speaking to them, or making eye contact with them either. Businesses were just starting to flip their signs to ‘OPEN’, and people were trickling out into the streets, walking into shops and restaurants and cafes and wandering around. Dmitri moved around them with ease. Eiffel tried to keep up with them, as they walked fast and wove through crowds easily. Dmitri turned quickly into a coffee shop, holding the door open for Eiffel. They had bought the book, and Eiffel was currently carrying it.

 Eiffel looked around the shop. He'd never been here- he preferred to just grab his automatically brewed coffee from the coffee machine on his kitchen counter over going to a coffee shop these days. Even when he did go, he usually went through the drive thru and almost never went inside one.

 He was pretty damn sure this place didn't even _have_ a drive thru.

    It wasn't a hipster place- it was more like the place that was run by a local family that didn't hire many non family people. The walls were a warm purple with a blue-green geometric pattern that appeared to be painted by 14 year olds that were doing it out of obligation rather than being paid. Everything else was pretty much standard- round tables with a checkerboard pattern on the top, metal chairs with uncomfortable plastic seat covers that stuck to one's bare skin, muted gray floor tiling, and local art on one wall.

Dmitri dropped their bag in a chair by the window. “Are you going to keep standing there or-?” they asked.

 “No.” Eiffel said.

  There was a short line at the counter, which was surprising, as there shouldn't be a line at all. It was 7am on a Sunday, the only thing he counted on to be open was The Blessed Eternal and a few chain restaurants, and maybe the gas station.

 “So…” Eiffel rocked on his heels as he waited in the line with Dmitri. “What do you do outside of the whole magic thing?”

 “Officially, I am a doctor.” Dmitri absentmindedly began to mimic Eiffel's heel rocking a little.”You?”

 “I don't do medicine stuff and I graduated college.”

 “No, what do you do outside of witchcraft?”

 Eiffel chuckled nervously. “I uh,” he paused. "Don't do witchcraft."

  Dmitri looked a little taken aback by that. "I assumed-" they began. "Nevermind. I clearly assumed wrong."

  “I work odd radio and sound tech jobs.” Eiffel said. “It’s not exactly stable, but it works better than-” he stopped. “It works better for me. By the way, I've been meaning to ask- what are your pronouns?"

  Dmitri looked pleasantly surprised. “He ones.”

  Eiffel felt like this was going to be a good coffee.

 


	2. Chapter 2

As it turns out, it had been a good coffee. A great coffee, actually. As a matter of fact, Eiffel was considering starting a religion for this coffee. Dmitri had great taste in coffee shops, it turned out. He also had quite a few secrets, it turned out.  
Eiffel hadn’t known him for very long- roughly a week- and he could already tell something was up with him. Something that gave Eiffel the same feeling as that bright/dark flash in Dmitri’s eyes when they had first met. They had agreed to meet once a week at that same coffee shop to exchange the original manuscript, so he was waiting there. They both decided to photocopy it in case something happened. (Eiffel had scanned it and uploaded it to his computer, phone, and had it on multiple online accounts even.)  
This would be the third time Eiffel met Dmitri this week. And he was going to ask him about what had been going on during the second.  
That time they hadn’t technically met, but Eiffel did see him, so that had to count for something. As far as Eiffel could tell, Dmitri had been running on the sidewalk wildly, probably had been for awhile, dodging people and basically viewing it as an obstacle course. He’d been waiting at a bus stop at the time, when Dmitri had rushed past him, a complete blur of blue clothes, black hair, and tan skin. Then that thing had come after him, that bizarre blob of white something that made Eiffel’s blood run cold and his heart stop. Eiffel felt like something was stopping every function in his body- and then it was gone.   
The only reason Eiffel was sure it had happened at all was the smell it had left behind. Grave dirt, rotting meat, and something cold and metal.  
Eiffel hadn't like it, to say the least. And he definitely wanted to know what the hell was going on. So he sat at the same table as last time, waiting for the strange doctor to show up, waiting with the same coffee that Dmitri had ordered last time, with the book on the table.   
He didn’t have to wait very long. About three minutes after Eiffel had sat down, Dmitri walked in, looking tired as hell and sporting a large bruise on his cheek. He walked to the table and all but collapsed into the chair opposite Eiffel, one arm hanging over the back, the other resting on the table, and his heels resting on the floor.  
“Sorry about my lateness.” he said after a second. “Had hard time getting to sleep last night, and even harder time waking up.”  
“It's two in the afternoon.”   
“My point is made, then.” Dmitri said in reply.   
Eiffel bent forwards, weaving his fingers together in front of him. “What was chasing you?”   
“I have no idea what you mean.” Oh boy.  
“I saw you. Wednesday. D. muscipula Street.” Eiffel laid out the specifics. “What was chasing you?”  
There was a pause. That pause frustrated Eiffel because he knew exactly what it meant.  
“I think you will sleep better not knowing.” Dmitri said at last. He said it like what he really meant was “You will never sleep again if you do know.”  
“I think I’ll stay awake not knowing.” Eiffel retorted. “Look, tell me, or I’ll find out myself.”  
At that, Dmitri shot up in his chair like a rocket and grabbed Eiffel’s wrist. “I can’t tell you what was chasing me, but I can tell you this; you investigate it, you end up in a coffin.” His words were desperate and forceful, and they made Eiffel shiver a little. His face was close to Eiffel’s, and he noticed, with a tinge of curiosity, that Dmitri had a certain scent to him- ink, and something bittersweet and fruity.  
It was nice.  
Very nice.  
Not now, brain. Stay on track.  
Dmitri settled back in his seat, and Eiffel could think clearly again.  
“Why can't you tell me what it was?” He asked. Focus.  
“Names have power. Especially this name.” Dmitri let go of Eiffel's wrist.  
“Names are just names.” Eiffel found himself muttering.  
Dmitri's eyes flicked over to Eiffel's. “Sure.” He almost laughed.   
Fuck he has a nice voice.  
“So something was chasing you.” Eiffel said, trying to not get sidetracked.“Can you at least tell me why?”  
Dmitri thought for a second. “I owe a debt.” He said simply. “Are you done?”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I'm done with the questions.” Eiffel sighed. “So, aside from that, how’s your week been?”  
“Shit.”  
He even cusses nice.  
Dmitri had slumped even further into his chair. “Three patients died from shared sickness that they got because someone mishandled some samples at their work. Then, another rejected their organ transplant. They are alive, but…” he sighed. “Well. You can guess. And to top it off, a few people accidentally inhaled chlorine gas while trying to clean a drainpipe or something like that.” He said, the last sentence full of exasperation.  
“That's… a lot.”   
“Understatement.” Dmitri straightened in his chair a little. “How about you?”  
“Me what?” Eiffel replied, confused.  
“How has your week been?” Dmitri asked.  
“Oh!” Eiffel felt his face heat up slightly. Why me. “Well… pretty boring. One of the people who hired me had a pet snake that got loose and it slithered into my jacket, but other than that, nothing really stands out about it.”  
“Hm.” Dmitri looked at the table, and for the first time, noticed the cup of coffee that had its handle turned towards him in silent invitation. “Is that-?”   
“Yeah. And it's getting cold.”  
Dmitri sipped the coffee gratefully. Eiffel found himself staring at the way his eyelashes curled against his cheek.  
Fuck why am I so goddamn bi fuck  
Dmitri gave a small, pleased sigh of contentment.  
More importantly, why the fuck is he so pretty.  
Dmitri dug out his phone and looked at the time. “Shit.”  
Even more important; how do I get to see him more often? Or get his number. Either is good.  
“Eiffel, I am sorry, but I have to go.” Dmitri put the book in his bag. “Thanks for the coffee.”  
“Wait.” Eiffel dug out a pen. “I know this might be kinda weird but-”  
“202-555-0177. I really do have to go.” And with that, he left.

Dmitri was starting to fucking hate this week. He really was.  
At least he probably wouldn't be late for this.   
Hopefully.  
As he sat on the bus, anxiously looking around, he considered if giving Douglas his number had been a bad idea. Sure, Bless had vouched for him (kind of) but that seemed to be entirely to try to get him to go get coffee with him, which was something he did nearly every week. One of these days, one of them was going to turn out to be a goddamn serial killer or something.  
It was pretty annoying honestly. Just because he wasn’t dating anyone didn’t mean he needed to be dating anyone. Especially not now. Maybe not at all in this lifetime and iteration of himself.   
The mark on his back burned. He felt the scar on his shoulder ache in response, like a conversation.  
He had to remember that he was dead. He was dead. He was dead and Death was coming after him and no one needed to be in love with a walking corpse that had been too egotistical and self loathing to just die when he was supposed to in that goddamn explosion, and had laughed in death's face and told them- it- that he was the only one who decided when he was dead and how he would die and where.  
And that wasn't even including the fact that he had challenged it to a card game and won.  
This was his stop.   
He got off the bus, thanked the driver, and walked to the river. A woman waited there, back turned to him and flannel shirt wrapped tightly around her.  
"Hi Olga."  
"Привет, Пчелка." She smiled at him, but it quickly faded as she saw the bruise on his cheek. "What happened to your face?"  
He brushed his fingers over his cheek. "Ran into a lamp post."  
"Shit."  
"Yeah." Dmitri sighed. “Ready to go?”  
“Been ready.”  
The two of them walked along the river, the book thumping against Dmitri's thigh.


	3. Here There Be Dragons

“Olga.” Dmitri said quietly while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don't do that.”

“Stop worrying!” his sister, Olga replied. “I have everything under control- AGH!” As she attested to how in control of the situation she was, she fell off the fence she'd been trying to climb, exactly like someone who wasn't in control. 

“I told you not to.” Dmitri said, not even looking up to see the disaster. “Said you would fall. And you did.” 

Olga got up off the ground and whipped the dirt and dead leaves off of her. “Ok but-” she gestured in front of her, “I got over the fence!” Her face had broken out into a smile as bright as a sunbeam- quite literally. Her magic tended to leave her literally glowing in various colors that corresponded with her moods.

“Yes, while looking like a fool.” Dmitri said with a grin. “Дурочка!"

“You're the fool!” Olga said jokingly. “You couldn't think of another way over in time!” 

Dmitri let out a small, air filled chuckle. He took a few steps to the left, and pushed against a panel of the chain link fence. It promptly fell over, kicking up more dirt and leaves. 

Olga stared in shock for a few seconds before talking. “You-!” Dmitri kept laughing. “You asshole! You knew easier way!”

“I did.” Dmitri got out between laughs. “I did.” He stepped over the rusted fence panel, still chuckling. “You are losing your touch.” 

Olga huffed crankily. “I am not.”

“You are.” Dmitri’s brow furrowed with worry. “You need to practice.”

Olga looked at him with a pinched mouth. “Why are you so worried as of late?” Dmitri looked at his shoes. “Пчелкa.” She said, grabbing his shoulder gently. “You know you can tell me anything, yes?”

“Yes.” He said it truthfully, but he couldn't meet her eyes as he said it. 

“Good.” Her hand slid off his shoulder. “Just making sure you remembered that.” Because you haven't told me much of anything since the accident. Silence hung in the air like a heavy fog.

“You said there was something interesting here.” Dmitri finally said, breaking the silence. “Are we going to see it or…?”

“Oh!- yes. We are.” Olga grabbed his hand and started sprinting through the tall, dry grass and wildflowers like a steamroller. 

“Slow down!” Dmitri said, trying to keep up with his sisters longer stride. 

“Nope! Consider it justice for making me climb over fence!” Olga laughed as she dragged him through the field. “Keep up, keep up!” she taunted him over her shoulder as they both felt Winders starting to grip onto their shoes and legs. Dmitri stumbled when one grabbed his leg, and grabbed onto Olga's wrist with his other hand. 

After a few minutes of sprinting that left Dmitri properly out of breath, they reached the north wall of the abandoned warehouse. Dimitri slumped against the wall, trying to get his breath back. “Why…” he started, before taking a deep breath and starting again. “Why did you bring me to a place with a Winder infestation?” he asked angrily.

“It was not as bad last time I was here.” Olga said, leaning against the wall. “Got your breath back yet?”

Dmitri took in a few more deep breaths. “Uh huh.” He stood up and brushed himself off. “I’m good. Let's go.” He and Olga walked along the wall, careful to avoid the field of tall grass. 

“So… Bless said you met someone.” Olga started. 

Dmitri almost stumbled again, headlong into a patch of grass that jutted out farther than the others. “Did they?” he asked, feigning calm. “I don't remember that. Much less telling them about that.”

“They did. Someone named Douglas, I believe?” Olga said, probing slightly. “Is he nice?”

“Olga.”

“Do I have to give him the “you hurt him I hurt you” talk?” she asked. “Is he a vampire?”

“Olga.” he snapped. “Stop.”

“I want to know if he's going to try to kill you or not!” she protested. “I about that worry sometimes.”

“Most vampires don't do that anymore and you know it.” Dmitri said with an eyeroll. “I didn't see any indications of him being vampiric.”

“Yпырь?” she asked.

“No.” he sighed and kicked a rock into the grass. There was a small yelp as a particularly adventurous Winder got hit as it was about to come out.

“Oборотень?” 

“No. Nothing supernatural other than interest in the occult.” he replied.

“Do you like him?” Olga asked, stopping him in his tracks.

“I don't hate him.” Dmitri replied. “I don't really know what to make of him. He's… not secretive, but he has secrets. Many, I think.” After a few more seconds of walking, he turned around towards his sister. “How much farther?” 

“Around the corner, then to the second floor.” Olga replied. “Are you gonna… you know… again anytime soon?”

“No. I'm dating anyone. At all. For a very long time.” Dmitri said, his voice stony. 

“I know things went badly with Vincent after the thing, but not everyone is asshole like that.” Olga said. “And I know you don't need someone else to make you happy, but you have been much worse since then.”

“What do you mean?” Dmitri asked. “I'm fine. I- I have an apartment and a roommate and a job- I'm fine!” he said defensively. 

“You don't sound fine.” Olga said skeptically. “And I know you hate doctor work. Especially when there's extensive contact with people.”

“I don't have to like my job to be fine.” he insisted. “I’m okay.”

“You keep saying that, but when was the last time you went to Shabbat or any other community events?” Olga asked. “Or changed your clothes on a day to day basis? Or took your medication on an actual schedule?” Dmitri didn't reply. Just kept walking. “That's exactly what I thought.” she said. “You are spiraling.”

“Look!” Dmitri said. “An open door! Well, a doorway with no door.” 

Olga huffed. “We aren't done here, you understand?” She said as she slipped through the door. “We will talk about this later.” she said, pointing at him as she went through the door. “We are not done here.”

Dmitri sighed and followed her through the broken doorway. Broken glass crunched and crinkled beneath both of their feet, making an unpleasant duet. Sunlight dappled through the plants that grew over and inside the building from the ceiling and windows, which only partially protected the building. Dmitri brushed against a wall and paint flaked off onto his hand. He let a breath that felt like he had been holding for months. 

“Nice, despite the Winders, yes?” Olga asked. 

“Yeah.” Dmitri said. Something in him felt… settled. Calm. He felt kind of okay for the first time in a very long time. 

“Come on.” she said quietly, hating to pull him away from his happy place. “Second floor, remember?” 

“Right, second floor.” he replied. The two of them continued on their crunchy walk. When Dmitri saw the rusted and rickety stairway that they would be using, he took a step back. “Olga. That is not safe.”

“It was safe last time.” she said with a shrug, a small head shake, and an incredulous expression.

“There also were not as many Winders last time.” Dmitri reminded her. “It could have gotten worse since you've been here.” 

She sighed. “Fine, since you want to be boring.” She pointed to a nearby corner. “Ladder. No rust. Bolted to wall. Safe, but exhausting and unwieldy to use, especially if someone is afraid of heights.”

“Would rather you be tired than be dead.” he muttered as he made his way over to the ladder. “And I am pretty sure you would prefer that too.”

“Dramatic.” She mumbled. “Are you sure you want climb all fifteen to twenty feet up to second floor, then down?”

“No.” He admitted. “But you will only go if I go, so up and down I go.” 

“Fine. Then you go first and I'll make sure you don't fall on the way up.” she said. “All right?”

“All right.” he said. He looked up at the second floor, chewing on his lip. “You promise you will catch me?”

“I swear on my lesbian-ness.” she said with a grin. Dmitri snorted and began to climb up the ladder. His hands trembled slightly as he grabbed onto rung after rung. “You doing good?” she asked.

“Mhmm.” he replied, sweating slightly. “I am doing… fine.” 

“Liar.” she muttered. “Just a few more feet. You can do it. Remember, on my lesbian-ness.” 

“On your lesbian-ness.” he said and took a deep breath. “Okay. Not stopping till I am there.” He started climbing again, looking only up towards the ceiling. As he reached the top of the ladder and scooted over to the side on the floor and moved till he was safely away from the floor. About a minute later, Olga's head popped up from the hole in the floor and she did the same. 

“All right… it's not over here. Come on.” She marched off towards an old room that looked like it might have once been an office for someone important. The door was half closed, and a little tarnished plaque hung off one screw. As Dmitri followed her, he turned his head to the side and read it.

“Director William Carter. Sounds like an ass.” Dmitri said. Olga laughed a little and pushed open the door. “Oh.” Dmitri said as he took in the scene. 

Inside was an old office, as he had guessed, with books and papers scattered all over the room. There were also the remains of a few pieces of furniture, one of which being an upside down desk. Inside that upside down desk, a bunch of old papers cushioned 4 eggs, about the size of an ostrich’s, all patterned with pale green dots. 3 of those eggs were broken in half and faded of most of their color.

“Olga, this is… probably illegal. And amazing.” he said in wonder. “What happened to the other three?”

“I don't know. Probably a predator.” she said. “We need to do something.”

Dmitri stared at the solitary surviving egg. “I don't know how to dragon parent.” he said quietly. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Don't you have a bestiary and know a lot about weird magic creatures and plants?” Olga asked. “Is that not one of your big focus areas?” Dmitri slowly turned his head and looked at her with wide eyes. “Fair enough.” They both started staring at the egg again.

Then a cracking sound started coming from it. 

Olga and Dmitri jumped back a little in fear. “What do we do, what do we do?” Olga hissed, holding onto her brother's shoulders. “Dmitri, what the fuck do we do?” 

“I don't know, stay very still and try not to move!” he hissed back, also clutching her shoulders. Then, they both stood very still and tried not move as the dragon egg started to hatch. Small cracks began to appear on the surface as the creature inside chipped at its shell. Dmitri and Olga held their breath, waiting to see what terrible tiny beast would pop out. After a minute of the dragon still cracking at the egg, they looked at each other, then at it.

“Should we help it, or…?” Olga asked. 

Dmitri opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. “I don't know. This is kind of… anticlimactic. I was expecting it to pop out like a demented jack in the box.”

Olga nodded. “So was I.” She let go of him. 

“What are you doing?” Dmitri asked, still slightly horrified. “It could be venomous!”

“It is a newborn. It probably is not venomous.” Olga said, stopping to look at him. And at that exact moment, the dragon's head popped out and saw Olga. All three of them froze. Then the dragon turned its head to the side and made a small burbling noise, almost like it was asking a question.

“Oh noooo.” Dmitri said. “This is bad.”

“Hmm.” Olga replied. 

“Olga… what are you thinking?” Dmitri asked, slightly afraid to know the answer. Olga took another few steps forwards. “Olga, no.” 

“Don't ‘Olga, no’ me.” she scolded. “It'll be fine!” She took off her flannel and wrapped it around the shell and dragon, and cradled it to her chest. The dragonling made a small cooing noise and promptly snuggled into the flannel. “See?”

“I see that your weakness is big baby eyes.” he muttered. “How do you expect to take care of it? It's a dragon! Not a cat!”

“Google.” she replied, walking out.

“How do expect to get it down from here?” he asked. “You can't climb down a ladder while holding a baby!”

“Stairs.” she kept walking. 

“The stairs that I told you were a bad idea?” Dmitri yelled after her.

“Exactly.” she said. “You can either take the stairs with me, or you can wait till I am down there and take that ladder.”

Dmitri thought for a second, sighed, and went after her. “This is a bad idea.” he told her again. 

“Go eat dick.” Olga said over her shoulder. “Seriously, go eat dick. It'll be fun.”


	4. Cycle

Douglas sighed heavily and leaned against the hood of his car as he went through his mail for the first time this month. Phone bill, bank report, tabloid, library card debt reminder, spam, water bill, electricity bill, possible glitter bomb from a coworker, spam, occult magazine, tabloid, wrong adress, coupons, weather almanac for next year, spam, engineering magazine, chain letter, library card debt reminder-

Letter from sister and brother. 

Doug let out a heavy breath and leaned back even farther on his car’s hood. Salomé Eiffel, it read in his sister’s sloppy handwriting, and Matt L. Eiffel in his brother's tall, spidery one. He never did understand why Mateo hated his name. It was better than Douglas, at least. He shoved the letter in his pocket and stood. Not today. He knew what the letter probably said, and he was not dealing with any family drama or tragedy today. 

But… what if it was good news? What if Dad was getting better, or they’d got into the same college? He could miss something- could already have, really- all just because he was too worried about it being bad news to open the damn letter and read it. Doug took a few deep breaths. This was fine. He’d just read it later. Get his other mail where it was needed, maybe make some dinner, watch a movie or maybe read some, and read it after that. He was an adult, he could handle this. Probably.

And so, mail in hand, he marched up the stairs to his apartment, dropped most of the envelopes in the trash, and put the magazines and almanac on the table to be sorted. He wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of soda, and sat on the sofa. Tabloids in one pile, informational in the other. Simple and fast. Or not. He sorted the magazines slowly, lingering on them and half reading them. Even though he drew it out, one can only meander on a simple task for so long, and he was done fairly quickly.

He sighed, got up, and rummaged around the fridge for food, all while the letter burned insistently in his pocket. Pickings were more sparse than usual, but he found a box of Chinese takeaway leftovers that could be heated up fairly quickly. And so, he continued checking things off his hypothetical checklist this way, procrastinating opening the letter for as long as possible until he finally couldn't stand it anymore.

He turned the letter over in his hands, feeling the coarse grain of the paper. Not normal stationery by any means- too creme colored, too elegant of a feel in his hands, actual ink making out the addresses on it, a stamp on the flap that's an old symbol that they came up with in childhood. 

It's not a normal letter by any means. Something about its contents is special. He hopes it's the kind of special that calls for loud, joyous music and confetti, and not the kind that makes his resolve weaken and calls for the peace and numbness of sleep. He needs it to be that kind. Needs for his family to bring him joy, for once.

He gently sticks his finger under the flap, dragging it across as not to damage the envelope as he opens it. Hesitantly, he flips the flap back and draws the paper out- of a similar paper, with only a minor difference in color and grain. Douglas puts the envelope on the counter, and he opens the paper.

We're sorry.

That's how the letter opens. No “Dear Brother”, no, that would be too cruel, wouldn't it?

Dad died yesterday.

Why did he open the letter.

He said that you aren't allowed to come to the funeral.

He should have known better.

We're so goddamn sorry.

The bastard deserved it, but-

He said he loved you. Salomé wrote.

But he was his father.

I told him that's bull shit. 

Douglas dropped the letter to the floor. God, he wanted a drink. Hell, he’d earned one. And one wouldn’t hurt… right? Just a little drink to take the edge off. Help him get to his happy place. 

No. No. No, no, no, no. That bastard didn't get to drive him to alcoholism again. He didn't get a say in his life, didn't get a vote in his own strain of sickness. Not today. Not today. Not today. Nottoday nottoday. It loops in his head, sinking into his mind.

He needed to go for a drive. A drive would clear the hell in his head. Douglas ran to the door, grabbing his keys before rushing down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He slides in behind the wheel, loving the feel of it underneath his hands. He's had this car since he was 20, miraculously. 

His father had hated it. It was too… Douglas. It had multiple colors painted on it, almost haphazard in pattern. It was a clunker, with a shit engine that complained too much in winter and a built in radio that worked infrequently and almost never when he needed it.

He loved it. Over the years, he fixed the radio and put on a better finish, but the crappy, whiny engine stayed on, as he found it relatable in winter and enjoyed the company. Douglas stopped reminiscing after a while, smiling fondly at the memories this car had had a place in for him. He turned the key sharply and firmly, and the engine complained to life. The actions were almost monotonous and automatic after that- switch to reverse, pull back, switch to forward, turn, and start driving. 

Douglas looked out the window, enjoying the warm toned view flying past his vision for a few yards, before turning his attention to the road. 

Subconsciously, he reached into his shirt for a pack of cigarettes, before remembering that he hadn't bought any for two weeks and had thrown out his favorite lighter. He sighed disappointedly and dug through his glove box with one hand without looking and popped a lollipop in his mouth crankily. 

He turned the wheel and began to make his way towards town, considering whether to grab some more food or to just sit somewhere that had some good music and relax. As he contemplated, he began to drive through the downtown area and slowed down to a stop when he noticed someone crying on the curb. With their long black hair spilling over their shoulders, for a moment he thought it was Dmitri (who he still hadn't texted yet), but felt disappointed when noticed that this person was a good bit paler, with a more deadened and matte look to their… everything.

He rolled down his window and popped his head out. “You alright?” he asked the stranger. Their head jerked up as he spoke, as if they were alarmed that someone was actually speaking to them kindly.

“No.” they said softly, their voice sad and wispy. “No, I'm not alright.” Their eyes were bloodshot, their cheeks bruised and their lips cut and bleeding. Douglas felt pity at the sight that they were.

“Do you need a ride home?” Douglas asked them. Sure, they could've been trouble, but they were hurt pretty badly, and Douglas had always had a soft heart and not too much common sense bouncing around in his head.

“Yes.” their voice was still soft, but noticeably less sad. “Yes, I need a ride home.” Douglas unlocked the passenger door, and didn't notice the wide, knife-like grin on the stranger's face as they got into the car. He relocked the car and started to drive again.

“Alright, where to?” he asked, a perfunctory smile on his face. 

“Ironwood. Ironwood boulevard, the only house in the street.” The stranger said. “You'll know it when you see it.” Douglas shrugged and drove onwards, directing the car towards the other side of town, towards the more industrial area of the city. 

\---------

Douglas felt trepidation finally start to building his stomach as he pulled up to the only house on Ironwood Boulevard. It was old, and seemed somewhat unstable, but more than that, it was just… creepy. He unlocked the doors, and the stranger started to get out before looking at Douglas in disappointment.

“Aren't you going to walk me to my door?” They asked disappointedly. 

“Oh! Sorry, um-” Douglas started.

“Caoimhín. Caoimhín is my name.” they said. Douglas got out of the car, and walked them to the door. Suddenly, the stranger grabbed Douglas by the shirt, knocking him off his feet, and dragged him into the house behind them. Douglas panicked and tried to stand up but didn't move. He felt ice in his heart and tried to move again. Nothing. He couldn't move. He tried to scream, but only a small, pathetic whimper came out. “It's alright, pretty one.” Caoimhín said, shushing him with a sickly sweet voice sad they dragged him across the foyer. “You'll be fine. This'll be fun.” 

Someone else started coming down the stairs and Douglas felt a small sliver of hope flutter in his chest. “Caoimhín!” they yelled. “Don't be greedy, Mister Hunger Pains, I want some of that too.” And just like that, Douglas’s tiny wisp of hope died.

Caoimhín rolled his eyes and let go of Eiffel for a second. “I caught him, fair and square Wallace, I get to eat him.” Eiffel found that once he was let go of, he could move ever so slightly. Taking advantage of this, he began to slowly get to his feet as the two men argued and Wallace made his way down the stairs.

“There's no way you can eat all of him!” Wallace yelled, a third of the way down the stairs as Douglas got to his knees unsteadily.

“You didn't help me get him!” Caoimhín screeched right back as Douglas crouched, hissing quietly as his feet protested in pain. 

“Just because you got him doesn't make your stomach any bigger!” Wallace yelled, three fourths of the way down as Eiffel stood and began to walk away.

“Ah ah ah.” Caoimhín grabbed Eiffel, noticing the large movement out of the corner of his eye and pressed his lips to Douglas’s ear. “Now, now, don't go chicken on me. Dying’s not so bad, pretty one. Especially not with me.” Wallace gripped Douglas’s shoulders from behind and smiled at him too. 

“He's right.” he said, his voice suddenly honey like and low, rolling over Douglas and sapping his strength and will until he only half remembered what he'd been trying to do. “Stay the night, pretty one.”

Suddenly the door slammed open, the spell was broken, and a short person walked into the house. “Heyyyy, who wants shitty takeout-” at the sight of Wallace and Caoimhín sandwiching Douglas, they sighed heavily. “Oh, c'mon, seriously guys? I get it, some of y'all have weird cravings but that doesn't mean you get to act on them.” they said as they grabbed Douglas by the arm and roughly pulled him away from Caoimhín and Wallace’s embrace. 

“Jackie, you know it's more than a weird craving.” Caoimhín hissed. “You know how it hurts. How it makes your stomach churn and eat itself.”

“Meh.” Jackie said. “I make do with animal blood, because I'm not a huge food snob.” They began pushing Douglas out of the door. “Besides, he wouldn't taste good and you know it.” As Douglas was starting to actually move at a near normal pace, Wallace snarled and tackled them both, and Eiffel felt something sharp dig into his shoulder. 

“FUCK!” he screamed and crawled out from under both of them. Jackie and Wallace grappled with each other, snarling and scratching at one another's faces while Caoimhín started yelling at both of them.

Douglas hurriedly ran off, getting in his car and regretting all of his life choices. He drove home sloppily, swerving on the road for squirrels and pieces of garbage that just happened to look like animals, still on an adrenaline high and full of fear. He bolted up his stairs, into his apartment, and locked all the doors and windows in record time. 

He looked around his apartment for awhile, and after he was satisfied that there weren't any monsters about to pop out of his closet and eat him, he finally checked on his wound that was still bleeding sluggishly. It was a thin, jagged cut, only about an inch long. He breathed a sigh of relief, having expecting it to be the telltale puncture marks that would indicate being turned into a vampire himself. At least that was one bullet he'd be dodging. 

He cleaned the wound quickly, covering it with a bandage to get it out of mind as quickly as possible. After he was satisfied with that, he finally noticed the blood that had gotten in his hair and all over the top left portion of his shirt front. “Goddamn it.” he muttered. “I liked this shirt.” He pulled it off over his head and threw it in a basket that was essentially a collection of cleaning rags. 

The sight of himself in the mirror gave him some pause. His skin was scarred. Freckled. Very blemished in general. Meh, he thought. Average stuff. I guess that was why Dad hated me so much. I'm just an average idiot that doesn't taste good. 

Douglas stared at himself a few minutes longer before sighing and starting the water in the tub. He needed a nice hot bath today.


	5. Mortis Lux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hirudo virus and Mortis Lux are my own creation, for my own use. Do not use them without my consent in any work that you gain monetary profit from. If you wish to use them in a nonprofit fan fiction, that's fine, but I would like to be credited

The next day, Douglas woke up feeling quite ill. Groaning, he rolled over and pulled his blankets up over his face, hiding from the sunlight pouring in from his window. That didn't make it any better, unfortunately. He groaned again, upset, and rolled over so that his face was snug in his pillow.

After a few minutes of futilely trying to get back to sleep, he sighed, threw his blankets off and rolled out of bed. He resigned himself to having to get up and do things today. He grumbled as he made his way to the kitchen and cheered up considerably once he realized that today was his self-decided day off. All the same, he got a bowl of cereal and sat down in front of the TV. Flipping through a few channels, he finally decided on watching a series of old cartoon reruns.

Over the course of the next few hours, a few things became clear. One; it was all he could do to not fall over when he walked. Two; he had a headache that was threatening to burst his skull wide open. Three; he felt way too sick to eat anything that wasn't extremely bland.

It was not a great morning for him. Light hurt his eyes, so he had to draw the mandatory blackout curtains to make it bearable. This made the entire apartment dark as night, save for the lamp he'd turned on in the far corner of the living room. He couldn't move away from the sofa easily, and he had ended up vomiting up his cereal into a wastebasket as there had been something about it that made his stomach object.

Groaning was the noise of the day, he decided sometime around noon as he got up to get some Advil. He slumped against the wall, pill bottle in hand. The coolness of the tile helped with the headache, so he pressed his cheek firmly against it as he unscrewed the bottle and shook out two gel pills into his palm. He took them down by themselves, too tired to get up and get some water. A few minutes later, he started to feel a little better, and he grabbed the counter. He used it as a brace and stood, swaying ever so slightly. He stood like that for a few minutes, his head hanging down as the pounding gradually subsided. He sighed, lifted his head, and made note to take care of the growing stubble on his face later.

He left the bathroom, humming faintly, now in a much better mood. As he entered the living room, he opened the first pair of blackout curtains and hissed, his headache coming back full force as the light hit him.

He shut them quickly and scrambled back. The headache subsided quickly once the light was gone and things were darkish again.

Kinda weird, but okay, he thought. He didn't think that was an overstimulation headache, but he did tend towards those when he was sick sometimes. He sighed, still tired, and went into the kitchen to try and eat some food. He grabbed a slice of cold pizza from the fridge and ate it absentmindedly, before choking and spitting it out when his mouth began to burn painfully.

He whimpered in pain, his hand clamped over his mouth. He could feel the burns already swelling inside his mouth, and it took everything in him not to vomit again.

After awhile of clenching his teeth in pain, he went to the bathroom and tried to examine the inside of his mouth. He shut it immediately, nauseated by the sight. He grabbed his mouthwash and swished some around, trying to disinfect the inside of his mouth. It hurt almost as much as the burns themselves, and it made the last remnants of his headaches so much worse.

He whimpered in pain after he spit it out and resolved to do the one thing that he almost never did: go to the ER.

He pulled on a jacket and shoes and grabbed his keys, going out to his car, the bright afternoon light making his head pound like he was a railroad spike stuck in John Henry’s path. He groaned and covered his eyes, sitting in the shadow of his car and holding his head. Driving might not be the best idea… he should probably text someone else and see if they could get him.

Hera was out of the question, while he didn't know her too well, he knew she didn't have a car- she took the bus or biked everywhere. Bless maybe had a car or something like it, but he didn't have their number. He didn't really know anyone else that he trusted enough to get him… shit. Cons of being fairly new in town.

Wait… did Dmitri have a car?

Douglas took out his phone and texted the number he already had as a contact but hadn't used yet.

_hey, do u have a car?_

A few minutes later, a reply came back.

_No, my roommate does though. Why?_

He texts like a freaking serial killer, Douglas thought. Or that friend of Hera’s- all in perfect english. It took him a second to reply.

_need hospital. feel sick. have headache & burns in my mouth. rlly dizzy._

_What the fuck did you do!_ Dmitri replied within seconds. _Will be there in a few minutes once you give me your address but how the fuck! What the fuck!_

Douglas smiled faintly at his concern, and at the minor slip up that made his texts actually look human written. _tell me bout it. must’ve caught smth at work. idk about the burns tho. maybe weird new allergies. scenic dawn dr, 347, u'll see a pathetic lump sitting by a shitty car outside block d. that's my dumb, sick, ass._

About two minutes after Douglas sent that, he passed out, leaning against his car, his phone slipping out of his hand and clattering on to the pavement. It all just hurt too damn much to stay awake in the burning sunlight. Due to that, he could not answer Dmitri's occasional worried texts, and Dmitri became much more frantic as a result. When Valentina’s beat to hell and back pick up rolled up, Dmitri opened the door before she was fully parked and hit the ground running, seeing Douglas slumped to the ground and unmoving. He checked his pulse and breath, finding that both were labored and far too fast for comfort, a fevered red covering Douglas's face and neck.

Valentina got out of the truck, only a few seconds behind him, and together they both hefted the sick man up and into the truck. Dmitri held Douglas’s body upright and against his side, checking his pulse every half minute or so.

Douglas didn't wake during the drive. He did stir ever so slightly every once in awhile, murmuring feverishly, but that was the only thing he did. Valentina drove quickly, glancing at the two of them ever so often. They pulled into the hospital parking lot, and again, they both worked together and got Douglas into the ER waiting room. They waited for the call. Dmitri got up every once in awhile and paced before sitting down, then getting up again. Valentina drummed her fingers on her armrest.

After a far too long stretch of time, they were finally called up to explain the situation to an on call doctor. It passed in a vague haze, both of them doing their best to describe the problem from Douglas’s vague and short texts.

The hospital staff took Douglas to the ICU almost immediately. One of them gave Dmitri a glance, furrowing her brow as if thinking about a difficult question before shaking her head and looking away. The two of them went to the waiting room again, and eventually one of Dmitri's co-workers, a slender and inelegant woman named Lila, walked up to them and tried to make conversation.

“Isn't it your day off?” she asked him perkily. Dmitri nodded absentmindedly. “Then why are you here?”

Her voice was too cheerful for the ER, Valentina and Dmitri both thought, albeit for different reasons. Too pleasant for a place of so much dread and fear.

“Friend had a emergency.” he said at last.

“An emergency. Why didn't they just get an ambulance?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. Dmitri still couldn't decide if he hated her or simply disliked her very intensely. And he’d been internally debating about that for almost as long as he’d worked with her. He glared at her for a few minutes before she grumbled something about Russians and went away. He went back to pacing once she was gone, trying to calm his nerves.

Finally, someone poked their head out of a door and asked after the two of them, and they rushed to Douglas’s room.

He was awake. That was the first thing they noticed. It was dark. That was the second thing. The blackout curtains were drawn, and the lights were dimmed down a bit. He had an IV, and there was a large bandage on his collar from underneath the hospital gown he wore. He was looking at the heart monitor next to him.

Dmitri sat on the bed and Douglas turned and looked at him. He initially looked pensive, but gave a faint smile when he saw who it was.

“Hey.” he said, his voice croaking slightly. “Bones, you got any idea what's wrong on with me?” Dmitri frowned and thought for a second, not knowing who he was talking to. “Star Trek?” Douglas said, noticing his confusion. Dmitri's mouth opened in a small o, making the connection.

“No, I don't know.” Dmitri replied. “You were unconscious when we arrived, and have not been told anything yet.”  
  
Eiffel nodded, his face becoming pensive again. “Sorry for my first text being me almost dying in a parking lot.” he said after a few minutes. “I'm usually not that stupid.”

Dmitri looked at him strangely, noting that Douglas seemed to call himself stupid a lot. “Not your fault. Time got away, and something bad happened.” he stated simply, in an almost teacherly manner.

Douglas sighed and let his head drop back against the pillow. “I guess.”

Valentina looked at the two of them. “Do you two need a moment?” she asked teasingly.

Dmitri’s face flushed and twisted slightly. Douglas looked at him in interest, before saying, “sure.” Valentina hurried out of the room, chuckling to herself quietly as she went.

Douglas sat forwards and gently touched Dmitri's hand with his finger tips, startling him slightly. “Thank you.” Douglas said quietly, looking down at his knees.

Dmitri huffed a little, the flush dusted lightly over his cheeks darkening a little more and spreading to the tips of his ears and the top of his neck. “Don't be dramatic, wasn't a big problem.” he said. “Honestly, I think it might be illegal for me not to help someone when they mention such symptoms.”

Douglas chuckled to himself, his eyes closing and a hand going up to cover his mouth slightly. It looked, oddly enough, almost like he was coughing. “Well, here's hoping it's nothing some antibiotics won't fix in a week or two.”

Dmitri's mouth twitched at the corner a little. “Hopefully.” he said, hiding the suspicions that he had about Douglas's sickness. “Have you been by the industrial district lately?” he asked, trying to hide his questions under the guise of pleasant conversation.

“Yeah, I was there for a bit yesterday.” Douglas replied. “It's… uh…”

“Kind of creepy?” Dmitri suggested.

“Yeah.” Douglas said, leaning back. “Yeah. I wasn't out there long… someone actually attacked me so I split like a goddamn banana.” He looked off into the distance, a strange look coming over his usually semi-upbeat face. “It was weird. They both talked about… dinner. And dying.”

“They?” Dmitri asked, confused.

“The people who attacked me.” Eiffel said. “Actually, not people, things. They definitely weren't human.” He was still distant in thought from them as he said it. “They had this power… these teeth… they weren't human.” His voice quieted to a murmur as he spoke.

“Did they bite you?” Dmitri asked, keeping his voice level and calm. Non-judgemental. Trying to just be calm for both of them.

Douglas took a deep, shaky breath before answering. “I don't know. I don't really remember. I don't think so. I hope not.” He looked at Dmitri suddenly. “Is it something bad.” He said it so flatly that it couldn't be counted as a question.

“I don't… I don’t know.” Dmitri replied honestly.

Valentina returned and sat in the chair by the door. Behind her, as if their arrival was heralded by her’s, cane in the doctor. Douglas’s hand stopped barely touching Dmitri's with a tentative gratitude in favor of gripping it tightly with fear.

“Hello, Mister Eiffel.” they said, oddly cheerful for someone in the ICU. “I'm Doctor Manette.” Dmitri’s breath caught in his throat. Doctor Manette specialized in diseases of the more… difficult and… supposedly “freakish” kind.

“What's up, doc?” Douglas said weakly.

“You're sick.” she said in a near unfathomable deadpan, given the situation.

Duh goddamn shit, lady. I almost died because I'm sick. Douglas thought. “Any idea what with?” he asked, trying for some semblance of politeness.

“So far? Mortis lux.”

“Morta what?” Douglas asked as Dmitri went pale.

“Mortis lux. Literally “light death”. It's essentially what happens when someone is partially ‘turned’ into a vampire because they didn't get enough venom pumped into them. Typically, without another vampire around the infected dies from the effects, which used to be fairly common.” Doctor Manette explained. Dmitri began squeezing Douglas's hand tightly, more for his comfort than Douglas’s. He hadn’t known… and Douglas had been in the sun for almost an hour at least. He could’ve died in the car and he wouldn’t have known why.

“O-oh.” Douglas said shakily. “I guess I got lucky.” He tried for a smile in her direction. Dmitri felt something in between his shoulder blades relax at that.

Doctor Manette raised an eyebrow in an almost angry manner. “You would've been luckier if you hadn't eaten garlic and gone out at the height of daylight with no real protection.” she said, crisp as one of her starched shirts. Douglas shrank back a little, embarrassed. She glared at him, then at Dmitri. “Why didn't you stop him?” she said harshly.

“I wasn't with him.” Dmitri said crossly. “I only knew after he'd gone outside to try to drive himself here, decided it was a bad idea, and contacted me, and I didn’t know what was wrong at the time.”

The two stared hard at each other. Doctor Manette blinked first. “Sorry. I assumed… nevermind.” she was suddenly almost sheepish. She’d heard a few rumors here and there about a one Dr. Volodin, and decided she’d rather not be hexed until the apocalypse.

Dmitri pursed his lips at that and tucked a stray bit of hair behind his ear. “Hmph.”

Doctor Manette cleared her throat and addressed Eiffel again. “One more test and then we'll know for sure.” she said. “Supposedly it'll be done soon, so… you might want to start making your preparations.” She put a folder next to him and left the room, jumping slightly at the sight of Valentina, whom she had not noticed sitting in the corner.

She closed the door and Douglas peeked in the file before paleing and throwing a packet from it into the trash can nearby. It shook slightly, but the can stayed upright, and the packet stayed inside.

“Did they give you a death packet in there?” Valentina asked from her corner.

“Yeah.” Douglas shuddered. “Not even a real option for me.” His gaze turned to Dmitri as he tried to forget about the content of that paper. Dmitri was looking off into the distance, fiddling with a necklace that had a small golden wedding band strung on it with his free hand. Douglas hadn't noticed it before, and felt his stomach drop a little when he did. Married.

Of course he was married.

He stopped squeezing Dmitri's hand so tightly- would’ve stopped holding it entirely if Dmitri wasn’t holding it almost as tightly- and leaned back onto the hospital bed. Dmitri looked at him quizzically.

“I'm getting tired.” Douglas lied through his teeth.

Dmitri nodded in understanding. “We should probably leave then.” he said as he started to get up. “If anything-” he started, then stopped himself. “If you need anything, tell me.” He squeezed Douglas's hand one more time, then let go. Valentina stood and the two of them left.

Douglas dragged a hand down his face. He drummed his fingers on the bed. Today was a truly maddening day. He sat up, picked up the folder again and hoped it wouldn't get any worse.

\-----

Mortis Lux  
A rather rare problem, Mortis Lux is caused by the partial venom injection from someone who has had their DNA altered by the Hirudo, or Leech, virus. During the first few days, the venom, which carries some of the virus, attempts to change the infected patient’s DNA, which due to the partial injection, is very painful and one often exhibits symptoms similar to a head cold amongst other things. The other symptoms include bad reactions to light, garlic, silver, certain types of photo developer and hand sanitizer.  
Historically, people with this problem die during the first few days as vampire families would reject those who weren’t fully turned. During the first few days, intravenous blood transfusion is required to keep the infected patient healthy. This is due to rapid nutrient consumption by the body that will near always end up consuming it’s own blood supply in desperation, while trying to supply its cells with nutrients during the sometimes extreme changes to the body. Even if the patient consumes higher calorie meals, this is an unavoidable part of the process, even if in rarer cases it is completely unnoticed by the infected patient.  
Once the initial brunt of changes happens, the dental structure is the first to change, if it does at all-

\-------  
Douglas closed the folder and stopped reading. That was enough. This was too much and that was enough for him. He put the dreadful folder back on the bedside table and laid back, staring up at the ceiling. After a few minutes of this, he fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.

When he woke, it was to a world of bright sunlight and pain and burning.


	6. Aftermath

Over at the desk near Douglas's room, the on call staff was bustling around unhurriedly, a few stopping to chat with one another every so often for a few minutes. This all came to a halt when they heard the agonized screaming. As a few rushed towards Douglas's room, toward the screaming, a stranger slipped out behind them, completely unnoticed by anyone. It was almost… magical, the way that he slipped away.

In Douglas's room, the overhead lights were turned on to their maximum capacity and the blackout curtains were torn and partially burnt, seemingly by some type of Infernus class spell. Douglas himself had not been touched, but the sheets had become aflame, and he was rolling on the floor, still screaming loudly as a few persistent flames still licked at his legs.

One of the nurses grabbed his arms and pulled him upright, ripping off the smoldering sheets that had been entangled around his legs. Once that was done, they pulled him out into the hallway where there wasn't as much sunlight. Others rushed and turned the lights down, and a few tried to put the curtains back up.

Douglas trembled as the nurse hunted down a bed and got him on it, rolling him into an already darkened room with no windows. They examined his legs, checking for burns and their extensiveness.

“What happened?” they asked him, running their fingertips over his legs and making him flinch.

Douglas shook his head quietly. “I- I don't know. I was asleep.”

They hmphed and stood. “You're lucky. The burns aren't too bad- I've seen worse from children who accidentally touched a hot pan for a lot of them.” They opened a cabinet and rummaged around. They found gauze, bandages, and an ointment, but still were disappointed. After grumbling and searching for a few minutes, they stopped and pressed a call button.

Lila popped in, as abnormally cheerful towards her fellow American human as she always was. “Hey Herbie, what do you need someone else for?” she asked.

“I need a cold compress.” Herbie said, gesturing at Douglas's legs. Douglas’s first instinct was to tuck them up to his chest and hide. When he tried to do so, he hissed from the shock of pain and stopped.

“Alright.” Lila said, her mouth curling oddly, like she was fighting back a frown of extreme disgust. “I'll be right back with that.”

“Freak.” Herbie muttered after she left. “Always with the unnecessary passive aggression.” Herbie sighed and turned to him. “Sorry that she was the one who answered. She's… always like that towards people.”

Douglas shrugged. “I've seen worse.” He tried to swing his legs like a child to see if that hurt too. It did, and he immediately stopped doing so. He sighed. “Who-”

“I don't know who did it.” Herbie replied.

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘who could do this’, but I'm glad to know that.” The last part dripped with angry sarcasm. “Really, I love not knowing who tried to set me on fire while I slept. Actually no, not tried! _Did_ set me on fire while I slept.”

Herbie glared at him. “I wasn't saying to be glad. I just assumed you were asking a different question, so don't yell at me because I didn't fucking do this to you and I'm trying to help.”

Douglas huffed. “Yeah, well.” he said bitterly. “I'm getting really fucking tired of having to deal with shit like this today.” Again, he tried to curl up defensively and again hurt himself in the attempt. He sighed and flopped backwards on the bed.

Lila popped back in and handed Herbie a cold compress. She left quickly, directly frowning at Douglas this time. Herbie made a face at her as she left and began pressing the compress against his more severe burns. Douglas fidgeted uncomfortably at first, but relaxed as he got used to it.

Herbie worked quickly. They cooled down the burns and wrapped them with damp bandages, not dillying nor dallying. When they were done, they tucked them and taped them. Then they wordlessly pushed his legs back up onto the bed and shifted him so that he was lying down properly and left.

Douglas sighed angrily and flopped an arm over his face. He wished he had his phone- he'd left it in the other room. Dmitri would probably be mad at him if he didn't tell him about it. Or maybe he'd just be worried. Neither was what he'd call good.

At this point, the stress of the day took its toll, and he fell back asleep. This time, when he woke, it was not to burning, just to a quiet room. Someone had left his few things in there, and hooked him back up to a heart monitor and IV, and there was the addition of a blood bag. Douglas groaned and rubbed his jaw. His teeth were starting to hurt.

He fumbled for his phone and checked the time. 10:30. Way past visiting hours and he'd probably missed dinner. Fuck. He texted Dmitri, cringing at the thought of what his response might be. _smth bad happened._

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed with Dmitri's reply. _What was it? Are you alright now?_

He swallowed hard. He didn't want him to freak out, but he didn't want to say nothing either. What to do, what to say to him? Finally, he settled on a response that would work. _i got burned, but not 2 bad_

 _How the hell did that happen?_ Dmitri asked. _Please don't lie, remember that I work there and can find out the truth tomorrow if necessary._ He added.

Douglas pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his jaw even harder. Don't lie, huh? He could do that just fine. _someone opened the curtains in my room when i was sleeping._ Then, he added another sentence to try to be as completely honest as he could and to try to keep Dmitri calm. _im in a diff room now._

 _Who the hell did that?_ Dmitri asked. _Why the hell did they do that?_

Douglas was suddenly grateful that he was texting and not calling Dmitri as he felt tears begin to spill down his cheeks. As he replied, his hands started to shake a little. _i dont know. i hate not knowing_

A few minutes, then a reply. _Are you alright? Brain wise, I mean._

 _i want 2 say yes but you said not 2 lie._ Douglas replied, frustrated with how long it took to type that correctly. A small, choked sob came out of his throat and he wiped his eyes roughly. A small notification noise got his attention.

_I'm sorry._

Douglas took a deep breath. He needed to pull himself together. _ill be ok just not rn._

 _Alright_. Dmitri replied. _If you need something I'm still here_.

dont u need sleep? Douglas asked.

 _I don't sleep as much as should very often._ Dmitri replied. _I'm fine_.

Douglas sighed. _go tf 2 sleep_ , he texted back. _u can very badly pretend 2 have some semblance of social skills in the mornin_

 _Damn, I thought I was doing a good job at that._ Then- _Goodnight, don't die your sleep or I'll be quite upset with you._

Douglas smiled and turned his phone off. Dmitri was a good guy, even with his lack of social skills. He put his phone on the bedside table and pulled his blanket up under his chin. Not a minute later, and he was out like a light again.

\-------------

Dmitri looked at his phone for a few minutes before sighing and letting the screen go dark. Valentina wandered in with her popcorn and sat down on the sofa next to him.

“Something happen?” she asked, eating her popcorn.

“Some idiot opened the curtains in his room.” he said and stole some of her popcorn. “I hope whoever did it gets fired.”

“Mmm.” Valentina replied. “Still wanna see Heathers tonight or do you have something else in mind?”

Dmitri sighed. “I do want to see that, but…” He wrapped his arms around his legs.Valentina patted him on the shoulder. “I feel really tired.” he said, nearly inaudible.

“That's okay.” Valentina said. “We can record it and watch the rest tomorrow of you fall asleep during it.”

Dmitri sighed. “That works, I suppose.”

Valentina flicked on the TV and set the recording. “It's a good movie.” she reassured him. “Scouts honor.”

“I still don't know what that means.” he muttered to himself.

Valentina chuckled and pulled a blanket off the side of the sofa. “Come here you touch starved jackass.” she said, holding the blanket open around her. Dmitri sighed and got inside the blanket with her. She wrapped the blanket around them both and waited for the movie to come on.

“Valentina?” he said when the opening came on.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Do you think…” he stopped and puffed out his cheeks before continuing. “Do you think Vincent is right about me?”

Valentina stiffened next to him. “The answer to that is still, as always, no. Vincent is an asshole and any opinion of his is inherently bad. Especially any opinions about you and the way people should treat you.”

Dmitri hugged his legs tighter. “How do you know? How do you know that I'm good?”

“Dmitri-” she said, pausing the recording. “I don't know you're good. I just know that you deserve better than some jerkwad who thinks he owns you because you used to wear his ring on your finger.” She looked at him. “Have you been thinking that he is?”

Dmitri looked at the floor. “I almost got someone killed today.” he said quietly. “Someone who I'm starting to care about more than the rest of the population. Doesn't that-”

“You didn't know what was wrong.” Valentina interrupted. “You said it yourself earlier.”

“Should have figured it out.” Dmitri whispered. “It was so damn obvious.” He felt his body shake. “Headache, burns from eating garlic, sunlight sensitivity-”

“You didn't know some of those.” Valentina reminded him. “He didn't die, so stop beating yourself up about something that wasn't your fault, and over things that thankfully didn't happen.” Valentina wrapped her arms around him and tucked her chin over his head. “Doug, if he has any sense at all, doesn't, so neither should you. So let's watch this movie together and braid each other's hair, okay?”

“Alright…” Dmitri said, hesitation filling his voice. “I'm not sure how I'm going to braid yours, but alright.”

Valentina hummed happily and started the movie up again. “You'll surely figure something out. I got some new ribbons for this.” Dmitri gave her a small grin. The plot started, and the two of them watched the 80s cult classic with interest.

“Please tell me Kurt and Ram die horribly.” Dmitri said after they were a bit into the movie. “I really want them to die horribly.”

“No spoilers.” Valentina said, grabbing a bag that was next to the sofa. She separated his hair into sections, and began to braid ribbons and paper flowers into it. “They do get their just desserts though.” she said, briefly stopping her braiding to eat more popcorn.

“Good.” Dmitri said. Suddenly, JD pulled his gun on screen and Dmitri nearly jumped out of skin when he fired. “I don't think that kid is alright.” he said quietly, stealing some more of her popcorn.

“Oh, definitely not.” Valentina replied.

And so, they continued like this, Dmitri making various comments about things that he found ridiculous, and Valentina laughing at him all the while. As it turned out, he did find a way to braid her short, black hair. At some point, around when the credits started rolling, Dmitri at last fell asleep. Valentina smiled at him and picked him up, setting him down on his bed and tucked him in.

She went into the living room and put their popcorn bowl in the sink. She turned off the TV, and put the bag in the bathroom, before retiring to bed herself. She straightened the one photo on her wall, and opened her blackout curtains so she could see the night sky. She smiled fondly at the sight of the brilliant, swirling stars over the neon bright city.

She went to change her clothes and flopped back on her bed. She rolled one of her pants legs up and set about taking off her prosthetic for the night. Once that was done, she rolled under her sheets and fell into a gentle, completely dreamless sleep.

 


	7. Awkward Conversations

Her brother had been very annoyingly right about one thing, Olga thought. Dragons are not like cats. Case in point: the dragonling was sleeping on the stove. While it was on.

The past week had been very weird. 

She'd learned a lot though, like the fact the dragons like to nap in flames. And that they really did have a weird thing about metal. Her coin purse has at some point disappeared into the the milk crate that the baby dragon had claimed for their own, in fact. So had her two favorite sweaters, and a pair of earrings she liked a lot. 

At least they had good taste, she thought. She went over and turned the stove down a bit with one hand, petting her attention hungry cat with the other. They still needed a name and she'd been having an unexpected amount of trouble coming up with one for it. Пчелка, maybe? No, that’d get confusing pretty fast. Hmm. Athaliah… Yaroslava… Havilah…

As she thought, leaning on a counter and scritching her cat, Ari, under his chin, the dragonling turned over and began to make distressed noises in their sleep. Olga sighed and gently scratched at its molting protofeathers, careful to avoid the flames. They made a soft rumbling noise and fidgeted a little less. Grǣdig. Greed. That was she would call it. 

She smiled to herself a little, picked up her cat, and gently gave him a kiss on the head. Ari looked at her with his large copper eyes and meowed curiously at her. She laughed and set him down. “Let's wake up the sleepy head.” She said, and turned the stove off entirely.

Grǣdig tried to continue sleeping for awhile, but like a small child without its blanket, wound up waking up. They blinked tiredly and gave a sleepy glare to Olga.

“What? I can't leave the stove on when I go to work.” Olga told them. 

The dragonling growled at her and glided down to the floor. They scrambled off, with their claws clicking against the tile and wood. They dove into their crate, snuggling Olga's stolen sweaters. Grǣdig popped their head out and hissed at her after they got comfortable.

“Fine, be cranky.” Olga said with a shrug. “You'll miss me when I get back from work anyway.” She put on her coat and went out the front door, her helmet hanging from her hand. Cold air hit her in the face suddenly, shocking her into wakefulness. She shook her head and pulled her jacket tighter around herself. Fuck you, autumn. 

She continued walking down the stairs to her motorcycle. When she got there, she noticed a note slid between the finger clutch and the handle. She looked at it, shrugged, and stuck it in her pocket. I can read it later, she thought to herself as she put her helmet on over her cloud of curly, peroxide blond hair.

She got on her motorcycle, handled her business with the key, petcock, and choke, then ran her finger over the area in front of her handlebars. A bug shield popped up immediately, glowing for a few seconds before stopping. She smiled, continued her routine, and drove off for work.

The tattoo parlor wasn't very crowded today. It wasn't crowded most days, but it especially wasn't crowded today. 

Olga decided that until she had something better to do, she'd get around to reorganizing the computer files. 

Lex, her coworker, bounced a fist off of her shoulder as they came up from the backroom. “How’s it going, Will o’ wisp?”

Olga laughed a little. “Slow.” 

“How about at home?” Lex asked, grabbing a notebook from under the counter and scribbling something down in it. They pasted a small piece of paper in, waited for it to dry, then returned the book to the shelf. 

Olga watched this with amusement before speaking. “Know anything about dragons?’ she asked.

“...You didn’t.” Lex whispered in awe.

“I did.” Olga said with a smile. 

“Know what kind?” Lex asked, still very much awed.

“Think it is a pygmy dapple.” Olga went back to typing. “Has the green and black spotted shell and all.”

Lex breathed out a sigh of wonder. “That's so cool!”

Suddenly, a woman who looked so prim and proper it made Dmitri look like a slob bustled in the door. “My son is interested in a tattoo. He's waiting in the car.” Her voice was nasal and stiff. “Is anyone here free to do one? Anyone good, I mean.” 

Olga and Lex immediately hated her. Lex plastered on a smile and walked over. “Well, if your son is interested in a flash, then can I suggest Olga here? She's one of our best tattoo artists. Her things have a certain… something special to them.” Lex said, gesturing at her. 

The lady looked at Olga and balked slightly. “You don't look much like a woman. You look-” She stopped herself from saying something improper and then started again. “You look wrong.” She clutched her purse tighter to herself.

Olga studied her with a discerning eye for a second. “You don't look much like you can read.” she said, mimicking the woman's voice. “The sign outside says to leave your grievances with those who aren't like you at the door, ma’am.”

The lady glared at her for a moment, then left, muttering something about kids these days.

“She realizes that you're like… 38, right?” Lex asked, after counting on their fingers.

“Probably not.” Olga shrugged and went back to organizing things better on the computer. “Honestly I wouldn't give a damn if she did.”

Lex sighed. “Olga, please.”

Olga rolled her eyes. “Did I do anything against store policy?”

“No.”

“Then I don't want to hear it.” Olga's phone rang, and she sighed. “I need a minute.” 

“Alright, don't stay out too long though.” Lex told her. “We might actually have someone come in who wants you to do a tattoo.”

“Yeah yeah.” Olga waved them off. “Be back in ten.” She stepped outside and answered, not checking the ID. “Hello?” she asked, her voice dry and annoyed.

“Ljóna, how are you?” Came her mother's familiar voice, with its soothing German lilt.

“Oh! Mama, I have been fine, only few problems today. How are you?” Olga said, flustered. 

“Have been well, thank you. Minor accident happened last week at rehearsal, but nothing more.” She paused, yelling something indistinct at someone in the room. There were a few moments of more yelling, then she held the phone back up to her face. “Has Dmitri been well? He never talks to me anymore.” Her mother asked. 

Olga sighed quietly. “He is... trying. Everything with Vincent really messed him up. More than the accident did, I think.” She drummed her fingers on her thigh. “It has been a year and a half.” she muttered. “He should be better by now.”

“Doesn't work like that, Ljóna. Especially not for Mitya. He has had problems entire life with mental health, and Vincent certainly did not help with that.” Her mother sighed heavily. “I never wanted this for him.”

“None of us did, Mama.” Olga said. “He was supposed to be safe, but Vincent slipped under our radar.” She sighed, leaned back against the wall, and held her hand over her eyes tiredly. “Why didn't we see the warning signs, Mama?”

“We thought they were something else.” her mother said. “Thankfully, Bless saw differently. How are they, anyway? Have not heard from them recently either.”

“Lex would say if something was wrong with their cousin.” Olga puffed out some breath, amused by the fact that it was already turning into clouds. “Speaking of Bless, guess what?”

“What?” 

“No, have to guess.” Olga said impishly.

“Weed became legal sometime in the last week.” her mother suggested dryly, pulling a loud, cawing laugh out of Olga. “I guess that is not it.”

“No.” Olga chuckled. “No, according to them, Mitya may have met someone.”

“....listening.”

“Bless says his name is Douglas, and they went out for coffee. Dmitri says he's not terrible. Then, yesterday, Bless told me that Dmitri texted them in a panic about how Doug had texted him about being sick then completely stopped responding to him.”

“Oh my.”

“Friendship! With a new person! Is it not beautiful?” Olga threw one of her hands up into the air. 

“It is, it is.” her mother chuckled. “Please tell me you did not ask if he was a vampire.” 

“Can I have one shitty joke?” Olga sighed exasperatedly. “I want to have just one kind of terrible joke. Just one.” 

“Only stops being funny if one equates it with murder.” Her mother yelled something again at someone. “Did you do that when you made the joke?”

“...well…” Olga said, trailing off, feeling rather awkward.

“Olga.” her mother said.

“Sorry.” Olga said sheepishly. 

“Do not tell me sorry, tell Douglas sorry! Just do not do it again.” her mother scolded. “Work on that.” 

“I will.” Olga said. Her eye caught movement, and she saw Lex waving at her frantically from behind the window. “Damn, I have to go. Love you.”

“Bye.”

Olga ended the call and walked back in. “Flash?”

“Flash.” Lex confirmed. “Olga, this is Valentina Morales.” They gestured to a woman standing by the counter that had black hair in a near pixie cut fashion, and rich brown skin. Her hands were tucked into a vest to hell jean and canvas jacket. She waved a little and smiled at Olga before putting her hands back into her pockets. 

Olga blinked at her a few times. “Do I know you?” she asked curiously, feeling a little embarrassed. She was cute, and Olga felt kind of dumb asking her that. “Because I think I do, but I cannot quite tell.”

“I'm your brother's roommate, he recommended I see you.” Then, as if to reassure her, she added with a smile, “I'm not in too much.” 

“Oh.” Olga said softly. “Well, why don't you look through my flash sheets and see of anything you like?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Valentina smiled and Olga felt her heart skip a beat. She was in soooo much trouble.

\------

Olga collapsed in her bed later that day, feeling tired and kind of confused. Valentina’s session had gone well, so that had been nice. She had her phone number now, which was also nice. That was about where the niceness ended. 

First, there had been an accident with the computer at the front desk, so most of their files were shot. Then, said accident had apparently spread to the books where they also kept records, so those were ruined too. Then the note from earlier that day exploded, disintegrating her jacket and starting a fire in the front room.

Several hours and a lot of interrogation by the fire department after that, she had been allowed to go home, with a warning and a target probably painted on her back. 

Olga sighed and snuggled her blanket. All she wanted right then was sleep. A few minutes of restless tossing and turning later, she heard a small snuffling. She sat up halfway, and saw Grǣdig pawing at her sheets.

“Just fly up, stupid.” She groaned, flopping back down. Grǣdig scratched at the sheets some more then started to whine. Olga sighed and leaned over, picking up the lazy dragonling. “You are lucky you are cute.” she grumbled at them. “Need to take a cue from Ari and either not sleep in my bed, or stop being so lazy.” 

Grǣdig yawned in response, snuggling up to her armpit. Olga made a sound that resembled a squawk, then pulled Grǣdig away by the scruff of their neck. “No! Am ticklish, do not stuff your snout into my armpit!” Grǣdig licked her face and snuggled her chest. Olga sighed. “I guess that is better.” She flopped back onto the bed again and pulled her covers up. “Do not scratch me.” she warned. 

Grǣdig cooed at her.

Olga scratched behind their ear and started to drift off. “Good thing you are also warm.” she said with a tired yawn. “Good night.” And with that, Olga slept, baby dragon curled up on her chest, and her blankets only halfway up her body.


	8. Crash

Douglas staggered out of the hospital. He was clear to go- his burns were healing fast, and the virus had ripped through him in the past two days, leaving his head spinning in more ways than one. His jaw still ached, as the change taking place there wasn't quite over, but he didn't need a blood bag anymore. All he needed was his ride.

Dmitri pulled up in Valentina’s beat up truck, smiling ruefully at Douglas. His shift had ended a few minutes ago and he'd had the chance to change out of his scrubs, replacing them with a blue and gray striped button down, suspenders, and black slacks. Eiffel stifled a laugh at the sight of Dmitri's hands, as he was wearing navy and cream gloves. Dmitri noticed and flushed a little. “Want me to drive you home or not?”

“Sorry- sorry.” Douglas stopped and took a breath, then started walking towards the other side of the car. “I just- you wear gloves when driving?”

“I wear gloves almost all the time.” Dmitri said with a scowl that was certainly meant to be scary, but with the flush on his cheeks it simply looked cute. Douglas hopped in the car and chuckled. “Is not funny.” he said, flushing an even deeper red.

“You're right.” Douglas said, making Dmitri look at him in surprise. “It's hilarious.” Dmitri scowled again and punched Douglas in the shoulder. “Ow!” Douglas whined and rubbed his shoulder. “Don't punch me, that's malpractice!”

“No, it is not.” Dmitri smiled at him as started the to drive. “Am not your doctor, nor you my patient. Malpractice requires that.” Douglas grumbled at that and stared out the window, pouting. He hissed as they pulled out from under the awning and the sunlight hit his face. Dmitri stopped the car and looked at him crossly. “Did you put on sunblock?”

“Well, uh… no. I don't even own any.” Douglas shifted in his seat. “Was I supposed to put some on?”

Dmitri stared at him in dumbfounded shock. “Did you even read the packet they gave you?” he asked.

“Some of it.” Dmitri stared at him even harder. “Look, the symptoms were gross and I didn't want to read all of them!” Douglas threw his hands in the air. “Sue me! Wait, don't do that.”

Dmitri sighed, took off his gloves, and dug through the side pocket in the car. “Sit still.” he said gruffly.

“What-” Douglas started as Dmitri started rubbing sunblock on Eiffel's face. He felt his face flush under the doctor’s ministrations. The determined expression on Dmitri's face didn't help at all. “Um.”

“Yes?” Dmitri asked.

“N-nothing.” Douglas said, his voice just a little squeaky. Dmitri rubbed the lotion on Douglas's neck, then stopped, satisfied. He wiped off his hands on a rag and put his gloves back on, starting to drive again.

The drive passed silently for the first few miles, Dmitri humming under his breath. They came to a turn and Dmitri idled for a little while before turning to Douglas. “Left or forwards?” he asked.

“Left.” Douglas replied. As Dmitri drove, Douglas found himself staring at his face again. His mouth was pinched, and his brow furrowed, but he was still beautiful. Beautiful. That was the word for it, yet it wasn't. Dmitri was beautiful, but in the way a disaster was beautiful. Not beautiful in the way a model or painting was. Beautiful in the way nature crushing the structures laid over it was, in the way something taking itself back was.

“Right, yes?” Dmitri said, snapping Douglas out of his thoughts.

“Yeah.” Douglas said, half paying attention. Dmitri's face had smoothed, but in his eyes there was still fire. It was intoxicating to look at. Hell, it made Douglas want to get burnt. Then the dying sunlight glinted off of the ring on Dmitri's necklace, and he felt incredibly guilty. Married. Right.

Suddenly, the truck skidded wildly and Dmitri started turning the wheel as hard as he could into it. Douglas gripped the dash and his door tightly, bracing himself against the car. Dmitri gritted his teeth and growled out a curse. A hard, resounding bump shook them both, and the truck stopped. Dmitri slowly unclenched his hands from the wheel and got out.

Douglas got out as well and stood shakily. “That was-” he started, then stopped when he saw the wreckage that was the rear of the truck. The bed was half fine, half crunched up. One of the wheels had escaped its axle, and was nowhere to be found.

“Tire must have blown.” Dmitri said, crouching nearby. “Hope your place is near.” He stood up and went to the front of the truck. He groaned in realization, putting his satchel over his shoulder. “Valentina is going to kill me.” He rested his forehead on the frame of the truck in resignation.

Douglas patted him on the shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. “Look on the bright side, she can't come and kill you right now.” He paused. “You know, cuz you crashed her truck into a tree and all.”

“Ah yes, will simply hide in forest forever. Excellent plan, Douglas, really, you are genius.” Dmitri said sarcastically. “Or perhaps hide in your house, which seems no better.”

Douglas made an offended noise. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing, am just saying that you seem to be scatterbrained and probably have a big mess everywhere.” Dmitri smiled at him. “Not to mention a dog, and already get jumped on enough at my parents’ house.”

“Well, let me reassure you, Dr. Prissy-Pants, I do not, in fact, have a dog.” Douglas said in a huff. “My landlord won't let me.”

“Your landlord sounds smart.” Dmitri said. A big drop of water landed on his face and he jumped a little in surprise. Douglas couldn't help but snicker at his startled and slightly angry expression. A few more drops of water started coming down and Dmitri ducked into the car, trying to avoid the rain, which made Douglas snicker even more, much to Dmitri's embarrassment.

“C’mon, let's get to my place and you can call your roommate.” Douglas took of his jacket and held it over his head like a canopy, leaving room for Dmitri to duck under. Dmitri looked at him a little oddly, then ducked under his jacket canopy.

They walked for a few miles before reaching Douglas's apartment complex, at which point Dmitri was regretting not wearing more appropriate footwear. If Douglas noticed his discomfort, he didn't comment on it. Once they got into the stairwell, Douglas put his jacket back on, and they both felt a tinge of sadness at the fact that they didn't have to stay so close anymore. Douglas rushed up the stairs, motioning for Dmitri to follow. He did, and caught up to Douglas just as he unlocked his door.

“What did I say.” Dmitri muttered ashe saw the inside of Douglas's apartment. “Big mess.”

Douglas shoved his shoulder playfully. “Look, last time I was here, I was very sick, so I'm sorry it isn't to your liking, your Highness.”

Dmitri flushed a little and bustled inside, ducking neatly under Douglas's arm. He surveyed the living room, frowning a little at the mess and outright pulling a face when an awful, but familiar smell hit him. “Douglas?” he asked.

“Yessss?”

“Did you vomit and not clean it up?” he asked, holding his arm over his nose.

Douglas paused, thinking, then swore violently. “That's why I hate being sick. You do stupid shit like that.” he grumbled and went into the living room, grabbing a wastebasket that appeared to be the source of the smell. He opened a window, and threw it straight down. At Dmitri's mortified expression, he held his hands up placatingly. “Relax, I just threw it into the dumpster.”

Dmitri relaxed a little, then put his bag down by the door.

“I swear, I'm not usually this much of a mess.” Douglas told him, going back in the kitchen to wash his hands. Dmitri made to sit on the sofa, but hopped up immediately when a spring tried to stab him.

“Of course, I assume you are usually worse.” Ordinarily, Dmitri would feel guilty picking on someone this much, but Douglas reacted in such an exaggerated manner that it was hard to resist. He was rewarded when Douglas whirled around and grabbed his wrists.

“You sir, are under arrest!” he proclaimed dramatically.

“What for?” Dmitri asked him, trying desperately not to laugh. “Oh, Officer Eiffel, what have I done?” He batted his eyelashes at him jokingly.

“For,” Douglas thought a second, “Defamation! Slander!” He sound his free arm around Dmitri's waist. “In essence, saying balant lies. I'm afraid you're in a lot of trouble, Doctor.”

At that, Dmitri finally bursted out laughing, getting a single word. “Cоблазнительный.” he wheezed out between laughs. Douglas dropped his wrists and put his other hand in his hip before remembering.  
  
“Sorry.” he muttered, suddenly somber. He took his hands off Dmitri's waist and took a few steps back, leaving Dmitri feeling very confused. Dmitri looked at him curiously as he bustled in the kitchen, looking for food more as a way to keep busy than as an actual pursuit of nutrients.

“Douglas?” he asked, taking off his gloves.

“Yeah?”  
  
What's wrong? Is what he wanted to ask. Instead, he asked him a different question. “Where is your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, on the left.” Douglas told him, his voice oddly stiff. Dmitri frowned, and left, presumably for the bathroom. Douglas sighed and put his head on the counter.

Whyyyyyyyy. Why did Dmitri have to be married. Why did Dmitri have to be so… much. Why did he, Douglas Fernandez Eiffel, have to be such a big bisexual idiot. He stayed there for awhile, a few dozen rhetorical questions bouncing in his head, when he heard a flush a few rooms over. He straightened, and took in a calming breath. Hell, he didn't even know Dmitri was married for sure. It was possible he was being weird for nothing. Yay, logic. Wait, ew, logic.

Dmitri came down the hallway, ending a phone conversation. “Valentina is not going to kill me.” he said, relieved. “She is mad, but she is happier that neither of us were injured.”

“Good, that's good.” Douglas said, still a little stiff. Ask him you idiot!

“Will still have to stay here for the night, unfortunately.” Dmitri said, leaning against the doorway.  
  
“Why unfortunately?” Douglas asked. Ask him! Ask him!

“You have one bed and I refuse to let anyone sleep on your couch for fear of back problems.” Dmitri raised an eyebrow at him. “Or tetanus. I got stabbed by a spring when I tried to sit.”

Ask you freaking nimrod! “Hey… Dmitri?” Douglas asked. Okay. Okay. Just do it.

“Yes?”

“Why do you wear that ring? I mean, I'm assuming you're married, but…”

Dmitri looked shocked for a second, then schooled his expression quickly. “No. Am not married anymore.” He looked at the ring, with an expression of tumultuous anger, fear, and sadness. “Mostly wear it out of habit. Should really stop.”

Douglas decided not to press the subject any further. “Oh.”

Dmitri looked at him, his expression dark. “I know it is… not your fault, but please do not mention marriage to me again. It is a painful subject for me. My husband-” he stopped and sighed. “My ex-husband turned out to be a cruel man.” He looked down at the skin on his forearms, which had white and pink marks of various size on them.

Scars.

Douglas put his hands down on the counter and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. Dmitri looked up at him in surprise. “I'm sorry.” he muttered into Dmitri's ear. “Geez, Dmitri- I'm so fucking sorry.”

Dmitri looked alarmed. “Is not your fault.” His breath wafted over Douglas's ear. His heart felt unreasonably heavy at the comfort Douglas was offering.

“I know. I just- I just wish that that didn't happen to you.” Douglas squeezed gently then let him go. He ran his hands down Dmitri's shoulders and squeezed again. “Any input on dinner?”

“Nothing with garlic.” Dmitri said.

“Well, duh-” Douglas started.

“No, not for you, that's obvious. For me. Am allergic.” Dmitri poked the sofa, trying to see if part of it had a safe place to sit.

“You're allergic to garlic?” Douglas tried not to laugh.

“Yes. Cannot stand pizza, even special made, because of it.” Dmitri found a spot that seemed safe and plopped down.

“Oh, thank fuck for special made pizza, I thought I would have to go into mourning over that.” Douglas said with a tinge of sadness as he rummaged through his fridge. He'd be mourning anyway, wouldn't he? But then again, he could just stick it to his old man one last time and not feel bad at all.

Dmitri chuckled. “You would mourn not being able to eat pizza?”

“Yes. Pizza is god.” Douglas brought out the rest of his Chinese takeout. “Chinese takeout sound okay to you?”

“What dish is it?” Dmitri asked.

“Noodles and vegetables in sauce.” Douglas told him.

Dmitri knelt on the sofa and looked over at him. “That's not a- never mind. Sounds fine.”

Douglas hummed to himself and set about heating up the food. A few minutes later, he took it out of the microwave and put it in bowls- one for him, one for Dmitri. He settled on the sofa next to Dmitri and offered him a blue ceramic bowl and a fork.

“Thank you.” Dmitri said, taking the bowl from him with a smile. The two of them ate in silence. Occasionally Douglas looked at him, trying to think of something to say, but went back to eating.Dmitri finished first and got up, putting his dishes in the sink. He rinsed them, and padded back into the living room. “Can I take a shower?” he asked, leaning on the back of the sofa next to Douglas.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Douglas stared at the few loose locks of hair that hung down by Dmitri's face. Black and so wavy it's almost curly, with a few premature gray strands mixed in. Douglas thought it was perfect, like lightning cracking across a midnight sky. Dmitri left and Douglas almost regretted it.

Dmitri went down the hallway again, and Douglas sighed when he heard the water turn on. Douglas got up, and washed his dishes in the sink. He heard a faint humming through the walls. He smiled to himself.

\----------------------

Dmitri walked out of the bathroom, wrapped up in a towel and his underwear and binder. Dmitri clutched his clothes in hands and walked down the hallway, putting them on the sofa. He padded back down the hallway and knocked on the door that he guessed was the bedroom.

“Come in.” Douglas told him. Dmitri pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Douglas turned around and blinked a few times at the sight of him. “Oh, uh-” he swallowed nervously. “Almost forgot about the bed situation.”

Dmitri tilted his head at him. “I mean, I could just-”

“No, no. It's fine.” Douglas waved off the thought that Dmitri had been forming. “Just get in the bed, it's fine.”

Dmitri nodded and clambered into bed. He wrapped himself up in one of the blankets on the bed, and swiftly fell asleep. Douglas looked at him fondly, and finished changing into his pajamas before climbing into bed with him.


End file.
